


Beginning to End - His Trial

by wildgirl509



Category: Ahwm - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: A heist with Markiplier - Freeform, But also not, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Minor Violence, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Yancy is Baby, YouTube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 14:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21411604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildgirl509/pseuds/wildgirl509
Summary: Mark left you alone when you got captured. You couldn't find him anywhere. You were surrounded by thugs and criminals- all of which were bad.. . . Or so you thought.
Relationships: Y/N - Relationship, Yancy/Self-Insert
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Beginning to End - His Trial

Standing in the prison, all by your lonesome. Mark disappeared, you couldn’t find the bastard that got you into this situation in the first place. You felt horrible fear creeping in your stomach as you sat down in the furthest reaches of the main room, avoiding as many people as possible. You knew some of these people by their marks: a man with a spider web tattoo covering his skull, the girl you’d heard being called “Tiny”, a man with sinful eyes and a wicked smile, but none of them seemed to compared to the leader of the entire crowd…

He was a man that you couldn’t even bother starting to make eye contact with. He had a tattoo on his neck of a strange… box? He also had a set of geometric patterns on his left forearm, and tattoos on his right knuckles of the word DARK. His hair was greased back in a half pompadour, and he gave off the vibes of a guy that could stab you and think nothing of it. He had solid arms, and a mean mug with a scruffy beard. You had heard whispers from the guards of what he did- “Both his parents…” “... double homicide…” “...Batshit crazy…” You had never even spoken to the guy, and you knew the best thing to do would just avoid him entirely.

The fact of the matter was, you were nobody here. You knew no one here, everyone knew your crime, and you knew there was no fucking way you’d be able to hold up against something that would threaten you. You weren’t a fighter- you were just a victim, brought into a fight that wasn’t yours to fight. And now, you were either going to get the fuck out, or get unlucky.

And fate thought it was funny as hell that you thought you had a say in the matter.

It had been four days. You’d get strange stares, and some people bowed up to you, but you had kept your head down and avoided fights, and general conversations, fairly well. Then, you fucked up.

It was right before lights out. You had been checking for exits again, avoiding the guards as best as you were able to. You were running back, trying to get back to your cell block before shit got ugly, when you slammed into Him. The big Leader. It knocked the wind out of you- he was sturdy, surprisingly enough. “Hey! What th’hell’s th big idea, chump!?!” You stammered, struggling to find your words, when his hand wrapped into your collar and jerked you up to your feet. “Y’got a fuggin problem, chump!? I ain’t goin’ easy on yas just cus you’s a broad!”

You barely got saved, only able to cover your face as he was rearing back his fist- “HEY! BOTH OF YOU, GET TO YOUR CELLS NOW!” You felt the grip loosen slightly and peeked through your arms, seeing the man’s brown eyes simmer with anger as he slowly let you go. “Yous.” You swallowed thickly as he poked your chest firmly. “Tomorrow. Lunch. Yous is gonna taste some blood, ya hear me?” You couldn’t even muster a reply as he walked away, shoving you into the cinderblock wall as he went past you.

You couldn’t even be given a moment to process it before you had to run to your cell to avoid the wrath of the guards, but as soon as you were in your bunk, alone, you couldn’t help but feel the dread curdling in your gut. You sat there, holding your torso, all of a sudden full of dread and anxiety. ‘Oh fuck… oh God, what am I gonna do?!? I can’t FIGHT that guy, I couldn’t even fight MARK! Oh God, where is he when you need him…!?!’ You could barely lie down that night, much less get any sleep. All you could do was think of the fist, those letters inked darkly into his skin, and the overwhelming knowledge that tomorrow could very well be your last day alive if he decided to play dirty. You could very well die tomorrow because you couldn’t fucking get your timing right. Sleep? What the hell was that?

The next day.  
You had never dreaded lunch so much in your entire fucking life.  
Why did this have to happen?

You walked into the main room, and all eyes were on you. You had never been so vulnerable to eyes, this was literally the last thing you had ever wanted. You looked around, praying so hard that he hadn’t remembered, or maybe had got sent to the infirmary for something bad- 

His eyes met yours from the center of the room, standing tall and proud. Fuck. He immediately glowered and set down his tray, walking towards you steadily. You put your arms up, trying to create some sort of blockade that maybe would help you-  
As soon as he was on you, there was a straight jab to the mouth. 

Pain flared up in your mouth and nose where he connected, involuntary tears welling up in your eyes as you stumbled back. He brought up both of his fists now and leveled his body, in a boxing stance.

You were hoping to run, but there was a circle now. You couldn’t escape the fight. ‘Fuck it,’ the thought shot across your mind, ‘I’m not dying in a fucking fistfight.’ You didn’t wait for him to send another one- you threw all your weight into a hit, and lucky you, it hit. He caught it directly in the jaw- it hurt you like a motherfucker, but from the way he jerked, you knew it was worse for him.

He wavered for a moment, then growled, and ran up on you again, throwing a couple of swings. You dodged one, but the other one landed on your eye. A tear ran down your face as the pain shot to your brain, but being so close, you had to push through and send another hit. It was weaker, but it connected nice and pretty to his nose. You saw vibrant red and heard the shouts of the people around you faintly. Was that a good sign?  
The fight felt like it lasted forever, with his fists connecting more frequently than yours, and the pain making you loopy. It was the worst feeling ever. You wanted to give up. It was only a minute.

“WHAT THE HELL IS ALL OF THIS!?!” You and the guy were stopped by the booming voice, the taste of blood and the pain flooding your senses too much to comprehend most anything else. “Warden, y’s’just-” “ZIP IT, INMATE!” You were fucked. So royally fucked.  
“We ain’t seen a fight in MONTHS, and your ass had to go and start another brawl!?!” Wait, what? The Warden was focused in on the other inmate, the man actually seeming… nervous. “N-nah, I ain’t-” “DID I SAY YOU COULD SPEAK!?!” His eyes shifted to you, the man in power seeming even more threatening than usual. “And you. Starting all this trouble, a fucking GRAND idea it was, wasn’t it!?”

He didn’t wait for an actual answer- “Send them both to Solitary. Three days.” You couldn’t believe it- you were in trouble for shit you didn’t even start?! A guard grabbed you, and you knew better than to fight, but the other one was absolutely wild. “GET THE FUCK OFFVA ME, Y’SUNSABITCHES! Y’CAIN’T FUCKIN TAKE ME! I’LL RIP YAS APART!!!” Your eyes widened (as much as they could, since your left one was swollen almost shut)- maybe you had gotten lucky after all, since it took four of the guards to drag him to the Solitary block with you.

You went in peacefully- no fuss, no fighting. They couldn't get him to stop yelling, screaming even when he went into the room itself. Even though the walls were thick and firm, you could still hear him yelling obscenities through it. You were still heavily sore, but you were more glad than anything else- you didn't end up completely fucked up. Even when you were hoping for the silence of solitude- kind of the fucking point of being put in there- you could hear him slamming against the walls, but why you couldn't be bothered to imagine. You were tired. You didn't sleep at all last night. It was hitting you like a fucking freight train. Even though the sound scared you, you found yourself dozing off into a restless sleep.

You couldn't tell how long you'd been asleep, pressed against the wall of your mostly empty cell. You just couldn't hear the bastard anymore. Maybe he was finally just going apeshit quieter. You looked to the wall and noticed a crack.  
It wasn't very big- barely wide enough to put your fingertip in - but it was still more than absolutely nothing. You couldn't see through it either, but… hell, you had nothing better to do, right? "... Hey." At first, it seemed like maybe he didn't hear you, or maybe he was still going at the door. Then, as soon as you were going to echo yourself- ". . . Hi." You sat up a little bit more, surprised that the person on the other side even answered. “Um… how are you holding up…?” He let out a small laugh at that- you couldn’t tell if it was sarcastic or not, but it wasn’t like it mattered. “Youse ain’t that tough. I’m still breathin’ nice and steady-like.” You smiled softly, “I’ve never been in a fight, so…” “Youse? Youse ain’t been in a fight before? Eva??” “Never. First fight to date.” “Damn. Youse got a good hit in, I’ll admit.” You chuckled softly and leaned back a bit, looking up at the ceiling. “Yeah… sorry about that. I uh, I didn’t want to just take it…” He just grunted softly- you couldn’t really think of a response to that. “So, um… Not really fond of Solitary, are you?” He let out a hoarse chuckle, “They kept my ass in here for a week before my trial. Youse ain’t seen shit.” You felt mildly alarmed- a whole week? When he hadn’t even been tried yet?? “That’s, cruel and unusual punishment! You should have been able to use that in court-!” “I was seen as a danga,” he grumbled, “it don’t mean shit to normies that I was puttaway like a fuckin’ corpse.” You felt defeat wash over you, pressing your back to the wall next to the crack. “. . . What did you do? To get put in here, I mean?” He was silent. One, two, all the way to thirty. Then, almost inaudibly, “I tooks care of a problem that wasn’t too pretty. That’s all youse needs ta know.” You simply accepted it- no point in fighting now. “I’m (Y/N).” You heard nothing. Then, “Yancy’s th’ name. Best not be forgettin’ it, ya hears?” You smiled and laughed, “Yeah. I ‘hears ya’ loud and clear.” And for that? You got a genuine laugh, and even in the darkness of the room, you couldn’t help but smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really just fell in love with Yancy on accident, who doesn't love a greaser bad boy every now and again? I hopefully plan on updating it soon, but for now, have chapter 1 and tell me what you guys think! #ShutUpMarkYancyLovedUs


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